For the first two days, we were told, in answer to our inquiries, that they were about forty-eight hours in advance of us. On the third morning, we again got word of them at a rancho, where they had stopped to bait their horses. The owner of the rancho gave a description of a mule which they were leading along with them--a brown mule, with rat tail and hog mane. It could be no other than the one, which had cost Dick so dearly. After feeding their animals, the Mexicans had made no further halt; but had taken the road again--as if pressed for time. So fancied the ranchero. They must have been under some apprehension of being pursued--else they would not have travelled in such hot haste. It was about forty hours-- the man said--since they had taken their departure from the rancho. We were gaining upon them; but so slowly, that Guinane was all the while chafing with impatience. He seldom spoke. When he did, it was to urge me to greater speed. I had much trouble in holding him sufficiently in check to prevent our horses from being killed with over riding. From information obtained at the rancho, we could now tell that the Mexicans were making for the sea coast, instead of directing their march towards the interior. If they intended going overland to the city of Mexico, they were taking a very indirect road towards their destination. At each place where we got word of them--on the fourth day of our pursuit--we learnt that the distance between us was rapidly lessening. Near the evening of this day, we stopped at another rancho, to refresh our horses--now nearly done up. The Mexicans had stopped at the same place, six hours before. On leaving it, they had taken the road to San Luis Obispo. We should arrive there about noon on the following day. "To-morrow," said Guinane, as he lay down to snatch a short repose, while our horses were feeding, "to-morrow I shall have revenge or death! My prayer is, _God let me live until to-morrow_!" Again we were in the saddle--urging our horses along the road to San Luis Obispo. We reached that place at the hour of noon. Another disappointment for my companion! San Louis is a seaport. A small vessel had departed that morning for Mazatlan, and the Mexicans were aboard of her! On arriving at the port, they had hastily disposed of their animals; and taken passage on the vessel--which chanced to be on the eve of sailing. We were just one hour too late! To think of following them further would have been worse than madness-- which is folly. By the time we could reach Mazatlan, they might be hundreds of miles off--in the interior of Mexico. Never have I witnessed such despondency, as was exhibited by Guinane at that moment.